


Mental wounds

by TheIceQueen



Series: Sam's blue book [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dehydration, Doctors & Physicians, Exhaustion, Fever, Gen, Medical, Mental Health Issues, Needles, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Sam Winchester, Sick Dean Winchester, Sleep Deprivation, Worried Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-19 12:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22710988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIceQueen/pseuds/TheIceQueen
Summary: Dean has nightmares and, in true Dean-style, he keeps it to himself. It ends up keeping him awake and a body can't handle that.-or; the one where Dean gets a small taste of what Sam will go through later that season.-Timeline is in the beginning notes, because of spoilers up to middle of season 7.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Sam's blue book [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/760254
Comments: 11
Kudos: 48





	Mental wounds

**Author's Note:**

> The weeks after 7x10 (where Bobby dies and Sam is somehow handling that his wall is broken)

”No…! Don’t!”

Dean’s screams filled the small motel room and Sam promptly swung his feet to the floor and sat up in bed. He took a second to focus his eyes on his brother heaving for air in anger and fear in his sleep.

“Don’t you dare…!”

Dean almost sat up completely before he trashed back into the bed. Sam jumped up and grabbed his shoulders, holding him there. “Dean! Wake up.”

He knew it was futile. Dean never woke up until his mind had pulled him through every horrifying detail of the nightmare.

“No!” Dean threw his head far to the side and Sam almost lost his grip on him. “Leave him alone!”

“Dean! C’mon, man. Wake _up_!” Sam shook Dean but only got more fighting to show for it.

For the last two hours, Sam had hoped that Dean’s disgruntled hums and muffled words wouldn’t have developed into this again, but now there was only one way. He had to ride it out. Sam had slapped him over the face to wake him up once. It had left Dean terrified of Sam and clawing to get away. He hadn’t talked much the rest of the day and Sam didn’t want to do that to him again. No, it was better to just make sure he didn’t accidently hurt himself and then be there when the fear turned into sorrow.

“Sam! Bobby!” Dean fought Sam’s hold but didn’t have any luck in moving his upper body. “Please…! Don’t!” He kicked the air and almost hit Sam in the stomach.

Sam sighed and sat down on the edge of the mattress, still holding his sweating brother firmly down by his shoulders. “Dean.” He spoke quieter with no illusion that he could wake him, but a hope that Dean would hear him. “We’re safe.”

“Stop!” Dean screamed and lifted his head high, opening his eyes a second before falling back down and closing off for the real world again. “Please…” His voice cracked and Sam’s stomach churned.

“I’m here. Dean. It’s not real.”

“No.” The word was more a sob than a real plea.

Sam hated this part just as much as Dean being scared of him, but he knew that he would get back to normal faster if he didn’t wake him by force. “We’re alright. Dean, you’re only dreaming.”

When Dean’s words stilled and his chin quivered, Sam cupped his cheek firmly with a calm palm and turned his face towards himself. His face was warmer than normal. Was he getting sick on top of it all? Sam shook it off; he could think about that later. “Dean. Calm down now. It’s alright; we’re safe.”

Dean relaxed his body bit by bit and soon Sam felt it was alright to let his shoulder and face go. He took Dean’s hand and placed it on his chest slowly returning to normal and laid his own heavy hand on top of it.

“Dean?”

Dean hummed and let his head drop to the side. Slowly his eyes blinked open and he turned his head back towards Sam and found his eyes.

Sam breathed in deep and forced a hesitant smile. “Okay?”

It took only a second for Dean to catch up and his jaw locked. He gave Sam a quick nod and rolled to turn his back on Sam. “Okay.”

With a small nod to himself, Sam stood up and went back to his own bed. It would take at least half an hour for Dean to get ready to get on with the day and pretend that this had never happened.

* * *

“C’mon, Dean. You’re hardly standing on your own.” Sam sat the coffee’s on the table and watched Dean scowl at the cups. He looked like it was either too far away to get or too close for his comfort.

“It’s just a bug. It’ll blow over.”

Sam sat down, not intending to take his eyes of Dean leaning against the door frame to the bathroom. “Did you puke?”

Dean shook his head, clearly a mistake since he grabbed the wooden frame with both hands. “It’s just a fever and a headache.”

“Right…” Sam pushed one of the coffees towards the empty chair and picked up his own. “We’re out of food. We’ll stop somewhere, assuming you can handle being in the car.”

“I’m fine.” Dean steppe out into the room, heading for the bed and not the table. He walked slow and controlled, and Sam watched his every move, still there was no time to catch him before he landed on his side, half held up by clinging to the bedpost at the foot end.

“Dean!” Sam dropped to his knees next to him and grabbed him under his arms. “Shit! You’re burning up. That’s it, we’re getting someone here.”

Dean shook his head and ended up even heavier in Sam’s arms. “You and your damn book. You jump at every chance to get me seen by a doctor.”

Sam stood up half way and with much effort got Dean seated on the foot end of the bed. “You know very well that, that book have saved both of us more than once.” Instinctively, Sam grabbed Dean’s wrist to check his pulse, but Dean pulled away.

“You’re overreacting. I just need rest.”

“And how the hell do you propose getting _that_?” Sam stepped back and folded his arms over his chest. It made for a good addition to the question, but it was mostly to hide that he was beginning to shake from anger and frustration. “You haven’t slept a calm hour for weeks… Since bobby died, you’ve…”

“Don’t.” Dean looked straight up at him, more pleading than demanding. “Just don’t.”

Sam sighed deeply, but nodded before he went to get the book from his jacket. “Alright, Dean. But I’m getting you some help. You need sleep… and preferably something for that fever.”

Dean didn’t answer, but when Sam turned back towards him, book in hand, he was sitting tall against the headboard with the blanket pulled all the way to his chin. He wasn’t fooling Sam; he was freezing cold.

* * *

Dr. Brianna Hughes had agreed to meet them in a motel half way between them and the hospital where her shift had just ended. Dean had complained the first half hour of the ride there. Mostly, because Sam had taken the keys before he could get to them. Sam was sure Dean would never have driven in his condition, but of course he had to keep insisting that he could.

After an hour of silence, Dean had started to nod off. For some reason Sam had hoped that the rumple and sounds of the car would make Dean sleep calmer and let him sleep through the last hour of driving with no problems. But this wasn’t the Impala and Dean always seemed more annoyed with everything when he laid eyes on the car of the week.

He was proved wrong after only ten minutes, when Dean’s whole body jumped and he started shifting back and forth in the seat. Sam had pulled over instantaneously and gotten out to let Dean lie all the way down. When Dean finally came too, he sat up with no words, not that Sam had expected anything else, and turned to look out the passenger side window.

“Who is this person?” Dean spoke after only five minutes. Maybe he was scared of dosing off again. “Do you even know anything about her?”

Relieved to have the silence broken, Sam answered promptly. “She was a friend of Jo’s.”

Dean turned and starred at Sam, but Sam broke off eye-contact quick to look at the road.

“So, a hunter?”

Sam knew that Dean was actually asking if she was in fact a real doctor, and if she even knew what she claimed to.

“Not anymore. She went back to school after Jo and Ellen…” Sam shot a quick look at Dean, but he’d turned to look out the window again. “She’s a doctor now, and helps out from time to time.”

* * *

Judging from the only car in the parking lot was parked right in front of the room she’d texted to meet them in, she’d made it there first. Sam pulled up next to the dark blue five door sedan and got out in silence. Watching Dean dizzily get out the car without helping him was painful but unless Dean was on the pavement, he wouldn’t let Sam help. With the way Dean hissed against the light and supported himself to the hood of the car, it could possibly be the outcome, so he kept his eyes on Dean as he waited by the door.

Dean scowled at Sam as he walked close, but Sam only nodded demanding at him and gestured for him to knock at the door.

A light voice answered and asked them to come in and Sam followed Dean inside. The doctor was a young woman, roughly the same age and build as Jo and Sam could see them matching each other perfectly in a fight. She was tying her long black hair in a ponytail as they walked in and then came over to great them. Her handshake was strong for her size.

“So you must be Dean. I guess I should invite you to sit before you drop to the floor.” She gestured for him to sit on one of the chairs next to the table and pulled one out to sit in front of him.

Sam walked further into the room and stood with his backside against the metal frame of the bed at the far wall.

“I guess you handle fevers by yourselves normally, so what’s special this time?”

Dean sighed and looked as if he only just remembered to not shake his head. “Nothing. My baby-brother is just overreacting and I don’t really feel up to fighting about it.”

Dr. Hughes looked back at Sam and he shook his head. “I’m worried because he almost passed out, and since he’s not sleeping it’s…”

“Sam!” Dean curled up and covered his eyes firmly with one of his hands and grabbed on to the table with the other.

Sam stood up, but the doctor took his shoulder, steadying Dean, and Dean let her.

“You have quite the headache too, it seems.”

Dean took a deep breath but didn’t look up. “Yeah, I guess I can’t hide that either.”

She took his other shoulder too, and leaned in to look up at his face and slowly, Dean uncurled his back and looked up at the lady.

“You’re not sleeping?”

The way Dean looked at Sam would at any other circumstances mean that they weren’t going to talk for a few hours or that there would come something flying his way. But right now they had company, and Sam wasn’t sure Dean could physically throw anything.

Dean turned back and answered with more control after he’d gotten back from the burst of pain. “I am. Just not enough and not well…”

She looked at Dean and then shortly at Sam, who had decided to only help if she needed it, and so far it didn’t seem that she would. She looked at Dean, shaking her head, making a point out of that she needed more information.

Dean sighed. “I have these… nightmares I guess.”

“I see.” She leaned back in the chair. “Did they come before or after the fever?”

“Before… by a few weeks actually.”

Sam was getting more and more worried that Dean was more exhausted than he thought, since he was just playing along with the questions and seemed to have given up fighting. He’d walked in here prepared to run for the door, to block Dean off but there was no sign that he was using more energy than it took for him to sit upright.

“Can I?” The doctor reached for his wrist and as Dean simply offered it to her, Sam’s stomach dropped painfully heavy and his hands grabbed tighter to the metal he was leaning on.

“Your pulse is racing, Dean. Even with the fever, I’m think it’s a bit too high.” She stood up and got a stethoscope out of her bag on the table. “I would like to listen to your heart if that’s okay.”

Dean started on his highest closed button, but got stuck there fiddling with the small thing. He looked at Sam, clearly telling him to stay away, but Sam had no intention of coming closer.

“Do you need help? It’s quite alright.” The woman paused in front of Dean.

“I’ve got it doc.” He pulled the flannel over his head slowly and dropped it on the table next to her bag.

“You can just say Brianna.”

Dean smiled at her and pulled at his jumper but she stilled his movement with a light hand on his shoulder. “Let me.”

Dean looked up for a second and then lifting his arms and let her pull the shirt over his head. Sam wasn’t sure if Dean remembered that he was in the room too. He would never have taken that help in front of Sam unless it was a matter of life and death. But looking at Dean’s face, it would seem that Dean felt like he was dying.

Brianna placed Dean’s shirt on top of his flannel. “You’re sleep-deprived. It can take a toll on muscles and motor functions.” She took his hand in both of hers and moved his fingers slowly. “The small joints gets tricky to control first. How long have you have problems with your fingers?”

Dean sighed deep and looked down and then at Sam. Sam only just noticed that Dean’s shoes wasn’t tied and thinking back, he was sure Dean pulled the flannel over his head this morning.

“A few days.”

She nodded and took her stethoscope from around her neck. The room was completely silent as she listened, but luckily she didn’t need long before she took a step back. “Sounds good. It’s too fast, but it’s otherwise healthy. Clearly strong.”

Sam breathed a bit easier, and seemingly; so did Dean.

“So, what now?” Dean followed Brianna as she placed the stethoscope back in her bag.

“I would like to check your lymph nodes, throat, eyes and ears.”

Dean looked like he was going to drop from the chair from fatigue just by the mentions of everything she wanted to do. It couldn’t take more than five minutes, Dean had to know that too, but he clearly wasn’t up to the task.

Brianna hunched down next to him and placed a hand on his upper arm. “When were the last time you ate?”

Dean frowned and looked up at Sam.

“He’s been eating less the last days. Last time was yesterday around noon. He hadn’t had anything to drink since then either.”

Even though Dean had asked for him to answer, Sam had hoped for him to react a bit, but Dean didn’t look betrayed or angry by the reveal. He was getting more tired by the second and it couldn’t be long before he would pass out.

The doctor had picked up on it too and gestured for Sam to come over.

“Dean.” She moved a bit closer to look up into his eyes. “I need to feel your stomach too, but let’s get you lying down first. I can do everything else like that too. What do you say?”

Dean shook his head, very slowly. Sam took his other arm and Dean looked up at him, still slightly shaking his head. “Sam. No, you know I’ll…”

“We need to get to the bottom of this, Dean. Let her help.”

Dean breathed in, probably to form another _no_ , but his eyes rolled back and closed for a second. Sam grabbed him tight around his upper arm before Dean managed to blink his eyes open again.

“You need to lie down now.” Sam nodded at Brianna and she supported Dean as Sam hauled him to his feet and wrapped an almost limp arm around his shoulders.

Dean let out a sharp sigh as he landed on the pillow and covered his eyes with his arm and turned his head away with a hiss. Sam stepped back and let the doctor sit on the side of the mattress.

“Dean?” She waited patiently as Dean slowly removed his arm and looked at her.

“Yeah, I’m still here.” Dean’s voice was almost only air. Sam knew the trick of not making too much sound with a headache tearing your skull in half.

“Alright. Let’s figure out what is causing this and then we can get some fluids in you.”

Dean breathed in sharply and seemed suddenly more aware of the room around him. Sam instinctively stepped closer but even the prospect of an IV couldn’t get Dean to object. It wasn’t like him at all. Maybe he’d just settled on that it meant that he was going to drink something, but had he been a bit more rested, Dean would have known that he was way passed that.

Brianna stood up and leaned over Dean, asking him to open his mouth and turning his head to look into his ears. She felt his neck and over his chest, not seeming worried or stopping to check anything again or slower. Sam figured that everything checked out. She got her bag and placed it on the floor next to the bed. With a small flashlight in her had she paused standing over Dean, who would have been sleeping was he not scared and embarrassed to.

“I’m sorry Dean, but I need to look at your eyes.”

Dean looked at the stick with the light turned towards his chest. “Are you really sure you need that?”

“With your headache, I am. I’ll be quick about it and you don’t look straight at the light. Look up, okay?”

Dean locked his jaw and for a second he looked at Sam. It was clear that Dean knew pain was coming, but Sam nodded as encouraging as he could anyway. With a big breath locked in his lungs, Dean looked up at the headboard and nodded slightly. His whole body tightened and more air was forced in through his nose as the doctor looked at both eyes, comparing them.

She stood back a whole step from the bed when she was done and Dean rapidly covered his eyes with both arms and let all the air out in a long growl. Without hesitation, Sam rushed over and took both Dean’s shoulders.

“Dean?” Sam tried to talk calm and quiet, not to provoke more pain for his brother. “Dean, you alright?”

Panting, Dean turned his head away from Sam under his arms, but hummed a positive.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Brianna kept her distance, standing behind Sam. “Take your time.”

Dean took a deep breath and slowly relaxed his arms and removed one to lie limp next to the pillow under his head. “I’m okay Sammy.”

Sam nodded, even though Dean couldn’t see it and let him go. He stood back and looked at Brianna. “So? What’s going on?”

“He’s not sleeping. That’s what going on.” She sat down slowly on the bed again and put her bag on her legs, but kept talking to Sam. “No sleep, gives headaches, and as he got more exhausted his appetite disappeared which leads to him not drinking. His immune system weakened and he got a fever. That made his heartbeat rise which added to his headache.”

Sam looked at Dean who slowly took his other arm from his face and let his hand land heavily on his chest. He looked even paler than before. His eyes only half open and still a little winded. When getting outside help, there was always that moment when he was sure he’d made the right choice getting Dean there. Normally, it was before even picking up the phone, but once in a while Sam acted on a gut feeling and proof came later. This time that moment was right now. Dean would have deteriorated right in front of him, hadn’t he gotten help, and all because of nightmares.

“What do we do? Where do we start?” Sam walked to the opposite side of the bed from the doctor and ignored Dean’s weak attempt to a protesting look.

Brianna looked through her bag and starting pulling small sterile packages, Sam knew all to well, up on the bedside table, as Dean followed her every move. “First he needs fluids and something to get that fever down.”

She put the bag down and placed her hand on Dean’s on his chest, waiting for him to look up at her. “Then how about we get you something for that headache? Then we need to figure out why you’re not sleeping.”

Dean smiled sluggishly, but pulled his hand from the doctor’s and gathered both high on his chest. As he looked up at Sam he couldn’t hide his strained breathing and that his hands were slightly shaking.

“Can I get a moment with my brother first?” Sam didn’t look away from Dean, but Brianna silently retracted to the table at the other side of the room.

Sam pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and leaned in close. Brianna was still close in the small room, but if he leaned in a bit and spoke quietly, Sam was sure that she wouldn’t hear their words clearly.

“I know you don’t like needles Dean, but you don’t have an option here.”

Dean’s face paled to more of an ash gray by the shear mention of needles but he just bit his lip and swallowed before nodding slowly. “I know, but Sam. I’m too tired to get angry at it, or sick. What if I…? _When_ I pass out from it?”

Sam shook his head, not following. It wasn’t like he hadn’t passed out before and he needed the sleep anyway. “It’s not a problem. You handle an IV better unconscious anyway?” Sam forced a smile but Dean didn’t seem to appreciate the humor. 

“Sam. She can’t see… hear it. I know it’s not pretty. I’m always hoarse when I wake up.”

“Okay.” Sam sat up a bit more and placed a firm hand on Dean’s upper arm. “At the first sign of a nightmare, I’ll get her to leave.”

Dean looked at Sam for a few long seconds before nodding and looking at Brianna. Sam waved her back over and moved to stand again, but Dean managed to loosely grab his wrist and make him sit back down. Not looking away from the doctor, Dean took his hand and held it. Sam was surprised at how weak Dean’s hand was. If he really wanted Sam to stay put he’d hold on tighter. Only a few times, under special circumstances, had Sam had to fight or hold Dean at the prospect of needles. Normally, he would tough it up and maybe puke or pass out, or both. They normally didn’t even talk about it; it was just what it was. Never had Dean taken Sam’s hand on his own.

Sam placed his other hand over their joined hands and settled down leaned in to be there if Dean decided to look in his direction. With a small nod and a smile, Sam gave the doctor the go-ahead and she put on gloves.

As she took Dean’s hand and placed it palm down, Dean breathed in shakingly and shallow, but he didn’t move. She cleaned back of his hand and Dean gasped sharply.

“Dean?” She paused before picking up the small plastic package. “Are you okay with this?”

Dean answer looked more like a controlled tremble of his head than a nod. Brianna looked to Sam and he smiled at her to urge her to continue. She took the package and starting unwrapping it.

“Dean.” Sam watched Dean look at the doctor’s hands. “Dean. Turn away. You know you’ll throw up.”

Dean closed his eyes and turned his head towards Sam. He didn’t open his eyes though. It was good enough for Sam. Dean couldn’t see the needle. In his state of exhaustion he would definitely not be able to control a spontaneous reaction.

“Small pinch, Dean.”

Dean turned his head further to the side and pressed his cheek into the pillow. His hand hardly stirred in Sam’s and Sam took it upon himself to tighten the grip. Dean was dehydrated and it couldn’t be easy to find a vein, but even though it took longer than it should normally do, Brianna seemed confident and only had to enter the needle once.

“Sam.”

The small whisper was shaking and Sam knew exactly what was going on.

“It’s alright. Get some rest.”

Dean opened his eyes but didn’t find Sam’s before he had to blink slowly again. “She… she can’t…”

“She won’t, Dean. She won’t see a thing.”

“All done.” Brianna placed the white patch over Dean’s palm to hold the cannula in place, but Dean’s eyes were already rolling back into his skull and a second later his hand went completely limp in Sam’s hold.

* * *

“How long has he had these nightmares?” Brianna took the glass of water Sam handed her as he sat down by the table too.

“A few weeks now, but he only ever sleeps for an hour or so before it starts.” Sam had sat strategically so he could keep a close eye on Dean who had been out for close to twenty minutes now.

Brianna looked as she was thinking over every scenario she could imagine. “Jo talked about you. You’ve been hunting for years. So what happened to prompt this?”

Sam didn’t know what Dean’s nightmares entailed completely. They seemed different every time. And he was sure that Sam seeing Lucifer was a big part of it, but from what Dean had been yelling in his sleep most could be about normal cases that had never affected him before. However, that wasn’t when they started.

Sam sighed and looked at his unconscious brother. It felt like he was betraying him, but he would never say it himself and most likely continue the downward spiral to, who knew what?

“Our friend died. Well, neither of us never admitted it, but he was more like a farther to us.” He looked up at the doctor and instantly hated the sympathetic look on her. It had to be what Dean had felt whenever Sam looked at him over the last weeks.

“I’m sorry.” She turned and looked at Dean as if she was studying him.

Somehow Sam wanted her to stop. Everything just got too personal, for both of them, to have her in the room; to have her knowing this. She was too young, too inexperienced in the life… to much a stranger.

“I…” Sam cleared his throat. “Brianna?”

She looked questioning at him for a moment before he continued.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine. He always is, he’s just sick on top of it all.”

She nodded with a caring smile, which only made Sam feel worse. “Of course he will. Let’s just get him hydrated and take care of that fever. If he wants I can get him something to sleep after. He will probably do better well rested.”

Sam knew from experience that keeping yourself up and being exhausted only made the nightmares worse and more frequent when he finally would pass out, but it would become one hell of a fight to get Dean to take anything to sleep.

“Maybe, but I’m not s…”

A deep hum from Dean stopped Sam instantly, and he was already on his feet when Dean’s head turned their way, reveling his eyes tightly closed and tense jaw.

“Dean?”

Sam sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed Dean’s shoulder and cupped his cheek to get a better look at his face. Dean hummed deeper and louder and turned the other way, only to kick at something that wasn’t there and shift his head rapidly back with a low growl which could be mistaken for a _no_. It was too late. Dean was already in too deep.

Sam looked back at the doctor standing only a foot behind him. “You need to leave.”

She looked confused for a second, but as Sam kept his eyes firmly on her, she eventually nodded and took her jacket. “I’ll be in the car.”

* * *

Sam turned back to Dean before he heard the door shut. “Okay, we’re alone.”

Dean shifted from side to side as his distressed murmuring of unclear words got louder. Sam found it harder to hold him on the bed and for a second wondered if it would be easier on Dean to just let him go and drop to the floor to move freely around in the blanket already there.

“No, stop! Sam!”

“I’m here, Dean.” Sam shook Dean’s shoulders, knowing that it was futile. But he couldn’t let Dean go through this alone. “You’re dreaming. Dean, listen to me; we’re safe.”

“Let him go! I’ll kill you!” Dean tried to sit but Sam pushed him back down, only to have him grab his shoulders and face him with still closed eyes. “Bobby, dammit. _Do_ something!”

Sam took a second to look at the wall over Dean’s head as he tried to settle his stomach with swallowing hard. Dean was only dreaming. He had to remember that. He breathed in deep and looked down just in time to feel Dean’s fingers boring deeper into his shoulders. Dean shook his head slowly and his chin quivered.

Sam bit his lip and supported Dean’s head to land on the middle of the pillow as Dean slowly let it drop back down. “Alright.” Sam spoke quieter. “Wake up now.”

“No.” Dean’s whisper was still strong enough to tremble and convince Sam that the next words would get caught in sobs. Dean’s hands slid slowly down Sam’s arms and limp, as the rest of his body, they laid heavily on his chest. His lips moved but not even air came out as Dean turned his head away.

Sam let go of his brother and sat back up, watching as Dean’s breathing moved heavily and loud through his throat. Slowly, Dean’s small gasps and strained breaths stilled and he looked almost peaceful.

“Dean?” Sam tried; not sure if he wanted to try and wake him.

Dean sighed deep and turned his head. As soon as their eyes met, Dean looked confused, but only for a second before he quickly scanned the room.

“She’s not here, Dean.”

Dean’s head dropped heavily on the pillow and he locked his eyes on the ceiling. “You told her, didn’t you?”

Sam moved to sit by the table, but turned the chair so he was facing Dean directly. “Only how often and how little you have been sleeping and…” He straightened his back, preparing for the inevitable scolding. “…Bobby.”

Dean’s jaw tightened and, not taking his eyes of the ceiling, he shook his head slightly.

“Dean. You can’t go on like this.”

Too slow; clearly still exhausted and sick, Dean sat up. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ll deal with it.”

“No, you won’t!” Sam stood up in the middle of the room. “You’re right. I don’t know. Because you won’t talk about it! You need to let someone help. Dean, c’mon.”

Dean breathed in sharp and Sam was sure that if he had the energy he would have launched at him, but he settled with sighing. He raised his hand, showing Sam the IV, still neatly in place.

“You got me in to this! Fair enough; I’m sick. But don’t you try to convince me that it’s _me_ we should worry about.”

Sam stood still, shaking his head in disbelief. He had been handling it. Lucifer was roaming around in his head, but at least _he_ was talking about it. No matter how hard or humiliating it was, he kept no secrets from Dean.

“Dean, don’t.” He pulled the chair over to Dean’s side and settled down slowly, calming himself and his voice. “You know everything. Of course I’m worried, we should be, but right now I’m handling it.”

He leaned down to support his elbows on his knees and was surprised that Dean didn’t turn his head away. “I’m handling with _your help_. I’m telling you everything, because hiding it from you is using energy I don’t have. You don’t have it either.”

Dean looked at him in silence for what felt like minutes, before he turned his weary eyes to his hands folded on his knees. “I’m too tired to do this now.”

Dean was too stubborn for his own good. Sam hated that he wouldn’t just give it up for once.

“You won’t get less tired. If you don’t want to tell me, then tell someone else.” He looked back at the closed door to the parking lot, where they could hear music, most likely from Brianna’s car. “Maybe someone we doesn’t really know.”

“No.” Dean looked up at Sam. “No, Sam. I’m not spilling the mess in my head to some random twenty-something year old girl.”

“Then who?”

Dean shook his head and pushed himself tighter up against the headboard. “It’s just every day stuff. Every case we’ve worked kinda things.”

Sam sighed deep and chose his words carefully. “I know that’s not right. I’ve heard and seen you, remember. Dean, it always ends bad… really bad.”

Dean swallowed and nodded to himself as if he was giving in to his own inner dialogue. “Alright.” He looked up at Sam; his face defeated and numb. “It’s just like every case we’ve worked. None of them have been the same but they always end with me tied up, held down, drugged or paralyzed, just watching while some monster…”

He looked down and when the moment lasted, Sam realized that Dean wasn’t going to continue. Sam rested his chin on his folded hands and watched Dean closely. “Who dies? Bobby? Me? someone else… Jo or dad?”

“No Sam.” Dean brushed a palm firmly over his face as if to get the fatigue out of his system. “Well, yeah. It’s Bobby, mostly.”

“But not this time?” Sam didn’t take time to hesitate before asking.

“No, not this time. Bobby was there, or so I thought, but he vanished. None of us could help you.”

How was Sam going to do anything about this? Dean was seeing him or Bobby die more than once a day. There was no way to just fix this. Sam couldn’t try to convince Dean that it wasn’t true, that it wouldn’t happen. This wasn’t the future he was dreaming about. Bobby _had_ died. Hell, Sam had died. It was completely rational for Dean’s brain to mix everything about their lives together and experience everything in different ways. It wasn’t like either of them had to imagine what could happen. They knew.

“Dean, I…” He hadn’t thought his response through and realized that he had no idea how to continue.

“So, Sammy…” Dean must have mustered up the last of his energy to be angry. “How does talking about this, make it any better? What do we do to fix this?”

“It does make it better.” That much Sam knew. Maybe not the first days, but it was the only thing they had and somehow he was sure it would help down the line. “Right now, we let the doctor, waiting outside, back in and let her help you. She talked about giving you something to ease your nerves and help you sleep.”

Dean looked at the Brianna’s bag still on the floor. “I don’t need help falling to sleep, I need help staying that way.”

Sam stood up and opened the door. “I know. That’s why I didn’t knock you out myself.”

* * *

Brianna wasn’t pleased with Dean’s unwillingness to eat or drink, but she didn’t seem to blame him. It was clear to Sam that she knew that she’d understood that this wasn’t the normal Dean she was faced with. Sam was sure Dean hated her with a passion when she jumped right to the conclusion of drugs, stronger than painkillers for the fever, but Sam should have known by now that Dean was too tired to fight it.

“We’ll use the same IV-port,” Brianna said as she sat down next to the bed, with a syringe and a small vial. “There’s no need to poke you with more needles.”

Dean sighed and turned his head towards Sam on the other side, not looking directly at him though.

“Are you okay with this Dean?” Sam knew that there was no other way now, but he still needed to hear Dean’s approval out loud.

Dean shook his head lightly. “No, Sam. I’m not. But in ten seconds I’ll be out again, and if we don’t do anything I’ll just end up like before.”

Sam swallowed and pulled a chair over, not too close to not crowd Dean. He looked at Brianna, who was filling the syringe with precision.

“Brianna. What exactly is that?” Sam was slightly worried that Dean hadn’t asked if she was going to knock him out.

She placed the vial on the nightstand and lifted Dean’s hand to angle the IV-port towards her. “Dean.” She waited for him to react but she had to take a slow blink and deep breath as confirmation that he heard her. “I’m not giving you something to sleep. This sedative isn’t strong enough. It will just take the edge of the nerves and worry away. Hopefully, you’ll be able to relax enough that you’ll get more sleep than the last times.”

Sam leaned in the slightest, to try and see his brother’s eyes, but they stayed locked on some random spot on the other side of the room.

“Dean?”

“Just do it.”

Sam sighed and nodded at the doctor, and watched Dean close his eyes as the drug was pushed into his bloodstream. Brianna walked away right away and started silently on gathering her stuff.

“You okay?” Sam close to whispered to Dean.

“I’m fine Sam. Don’t really feel anything.”

Sam looked up at Brianna and she smiled back at him while continuing her cleanup. “It could be that he won’t feel it physically at all, but it should help him with the stress.”

“Sammy.” Dean sounded more tired again. The time Dean could stay awake became shorter for every time he got next to no sleep.

“Yeah. What is it?”

Dean’s wavering eyes found Sam’s for a short moment. “Sam. If I… again. She still can’t see.”

Sam smiled overbearingly. “I know. Don’t worry. Just get some rest, will you?”

Dean smiled weary and closed his eyes. Few seconds later Dean was fast asleep, and Sam wondered if there had been a little too much in that syringe.

Brianna came over, stethoscope in hand, and sat down opposite Sam.

“How long will it take before we know it it’s working?” Sam tried to keep his voice down, but it felt weird whispering over Dean sleeping.

She shrug her shoulders and gave a small smile. “If he sleeps longer than he’s done over the last days. It’s not a cure, though. You know that, right?”

Sam nodded. “I do. Dean knows too, but that doesn’t mean that he wants to try anything else.” _Anything else_ was talking about it. They all knew that, but Sam was sure that the talk him and Dean had had half an hour ago was a one-time thing.

Brianna sighed and leaned back on the chair, looking at Dean. Sam did the same, and for a full hour they sat in silence. They were only interrupted by Brianna checking his heartbeat, and by the panic in Sam, whenever Dean would turn or shift the slightest. Eventually, Sam managed to accept that as a normal sleep pattern and not double his heartbeat every time.

Sam looked at his watch. It had been an hour and fifteen minutes.

“Sam. Relax.” Brianna smiled kindly at him. “You’ve looked at your watch six time in the last ten minutes.”

Realizing that she was right, Sam sighed and let his hands lie heavier on his lap. “Sorry. I guess I’m expecting him to start any second now.”

“I get it.” She put the stethoscope in her ears and checked Dean’s heart again. Sam had feared that she would wake him up every time, but Dean never reacted to the light touch. “He’s still relaxed and sleeping deep. If he sleeps half an hour more, it’s safe to give him another small dose. But for now, how about you make some coffee?”

Sam didn’t want to take his eyes of Dean in case he had to make Brianna leave quickly, but it _did_ feel weird and kinda wrong to sit watch over him for so long. He stood up in silence and retracted to the small kitchen in the corner.

Half an hour later, Brianna changed the bag of saline and pushed in another dose of the sedative. Dean hummed and pulled his arm slightly, from the probably cold feeling inside his hand and wrist, but didn’t wake up.

* * *

When Dean stirred in bed and stretched his body with a deep and long sigh, it had been nine hours. Sam stood up from the table, not quite steady on his blood deprived legs, and made the way to the chair next to Dean, as fast as he could.

“Dean?”

Dean blinked his eyes open slowly and Sam waited less than patiently for him to turn his head and look at him.

Dean hardly made a sound but the form of the air was clear; “Sammy?”

“Here.” Sam placed a heavy hand on Dean’s upper arm and Dean turned and found his face. “How are you feeling? Your fever seem to have broken.”

Licking his lips and swallowing, clearly uncomfortably, Dean looked over the room for a second. “Better, I guess. Thirsty.”

“Of course.”

Sam turned to stand, but a small hand on his shoulder held him on the chair.

“You should drink juice if you can.” She handed Sam the glass and walked to the other side of the bed to help Dean place the pillows right as he sat up.

After the second dose, Brianna had come to the conclusion that she couldn’t do more to help, and a few hours later she’d decided to drive to the store for supplies. Sam had made her promise that she would wait in the car, without trying to get in or contact them by phone, if the door was locked when she came back. It hadn’t been. Dean had sleep through with no nightmares.

“Thanks,” Dean said slightly winded as he took the glass and sipped the juice. “How long?”

Sam smiled and looked quickly at Brianna before answering. “Nine hours.”

If Sam hadn’t been close enough to steady Dean’s hand for a second, Dean would have spilled the juice all over himself.

“Nine?! I haven’t slept nine straight hours in years.”

“Guess you needed it,” Sam said with a grin on his face.

Dean shook his head and took another sip of the juice, noticing the cannula in his hand. It had been disconnected from the saline for a few hours now. He looked at the doctor standing by the foot end of the bed. “So, what now? I’m good?”

“Your fever is gone, if that’s what you mean, and it’s a good sign that you’re drinking. But you can’t go without sleep again.”

“It’s not like I have a choice,” Dean said as he focused back on the glass. He wasn’t fooling Sam; his hands were still not cooperating like they should.

“I can give you pills to calm you down, but not for more than a night or two. It’s not safe longer than that.” Brianna paused as she quickly looked at Sam. Then she nodded and turned her attention to Dean again.

“Dean.” She sat down on the chair next to him and leaned in, for a second Sam thought she would try and take Dean’s hand, but she just settled with resting her elbows on her knees and folding her hands in front of her. “You need to work on talking about it; get it out so you can go on with the day. Nightmares only gets worse if you think about it all the time.”

“I’m not…” Dean paused himself as his eyes landed on Sam’s face.

They both knew he was thinking about it every quiet minute of the day. Countless times, Sam had had to speak louder and repeat himself to get Dean’s attention.

“So, what…? I’m going to explain every detail to my brother waking me up. _Every night_?!” Dean looked at Sam. “That’s not going to happen. Some things are not…”

Dean stopped and for a second they shared eye-contact and Sam was sure Dean looked suddenly more sad than angry. Dean looked down and shook his head. “Dreams are personal. It’s _my_ messed up brain.”

Brianna moved a little forward on her chair, but Sam held up a hand to stop her from talking.

“Dean,” Sam said as he too moved a little forward. “Let’s make a deal.”

Dean frowned and looked up, waiting for Sam to continue.

“You don’t have to explain every detail. What you said before was more than I thought you would ever tell me.”

“Sam.” Dean straightened his back and put the glass down. The way he looked at Sam, it was always as if Dean was trying to comfort _him_. “There will be times where I’m not going to say anything. I’m not dumping my crap on you. Not now; you have your own shit to deal with.”

Sam shook his head. He was already dumping everything on Dean. Why shouldn’t it go the other way around too?

“So you don’t,” Brianna said, making them both look at her. “You talk to someone else. To me.”

Dean shook his head before Sam could gather his own thought to give up on the conversation.

“Hear me out, okay?” Now she took Dean’s hand, and Sam’s brain lagged for a second when he realized that Dean didn’t pull away in disgust of being pitied. Dean must have still been drained of most of the energy that made him Dean.

“You don’t have to call. I guess that the biggest reason you don’t want to explain is _this_.” She lifted his hand and covered their hold with her other hand. “You don’t want anyone to feel sorry for you; especially Sam. Am I right?”

Dean didn’t answer. His confused look stayed on Brianna as she kept on talking. “So we take that bit out. If you dream something you don’t want to, or can’t, tell Sam; you text it to me. I’ll answer that I’ve read it and no more.”

Dean shook his head and took his hand back, retracting closer against the headboard. “What the hell will that do?!”

“Dean,” Sam said strictly. “Just do it.”

Dean quickly locked his stern eyes at Sam, but almost instantly his expression softened. Sam wondered how obvious it was to Dean that Sam was almost as desperate as he was tired.

“Okay, Sammy.”

* * *

Dean had gotten a few pills to make him less restless, the first nights. He’d slept through the first one and on the second night he’d almost slept five hours before he screamed and landed hard on the floor.

He’d refused to talk, like all the other times before, so Sam had thrown Dean’s phone at him. Sam hadn’t expected Dean to sit up and write a rather long text before he laid back down. Under two minutes later a text pinged in on Dean’s phone.

A few more nights went on like that. Sam didn’t try to get Dean to talk and he wouldn’t as long as Dean got at least three hours of sleep each night, and so far it was going the right way.

The fifth night Dean had only slept two hours before Sam had had to hold him down, so he wouldn’t trash around and accidently hurt himself. It was a bad one. It lasted longer than Sam could remember any of the others had and when Dean finally calmed down, tears were running over his face.

As Sam let go of Dean’s shoulders and sat up straight he swallowed hard, realizing that his own eyes was burning. Was this never going to end? What if Dean was actually worse off mentally than himself?

Sam sighed and turned Dean’s head slowly towards himself. “Dean? Can you hear me now?”

Dean breathed in deep and hummed the air back out. Slowly, his eyes blinked open, letting the last two tears run over his temples.

“Awake?” Sam asked quietly.

Dean’s eyes found Sam’s. “Yeah.” His voice cracked and he promptly cleared his throat and wiped his hand over his face. He looked more surprised than embarrassed.

Sam silently got up from the side of the bed and handed Dean his phone, before climbing in to his own bed, hoping to get a few more hours of sleep, and that this was a onetime thing.

“Sam,” Dean said with a voice sounding more like his normal one.

Sam sat back up and looked over the dark room, where he could see the outline of Dean’s figure, sitting up with his feet on the floor.

“Dean? You alright?”

“Yeah… well, no,” Dean said, looking down.

Sam reached over and turned on the lamp on the nightstand. Dean had left the phone on the mattress next to him and had his hands gathered in his lap.

“What is it?” Sam asked quietly.

Dean sighed deep as if he was deciding. “Can you do it like she does?”

Sam thought for a second but wasn’t sure what Dean meant. “Do what?”

“Not trying to fix everything. It’s getting weird writing to Brianna, but I get it; it’s better.” Dean straightened his back and looked less beaten and more determined. “If you can’t just listen and shut up about it, I’ll have to write her instead.”

Sam studied Dean. What was special was that even with that question, his tense body and stoic face, made him look in control and not like he had given up before making this choice.

“Sure,” Sam said, trying not to sound too thrilled about the night’s development.

Dean stood up to get a water from the fridge and sat back down in bed. “No shrink stuff, Sammy. No questions at all.”

“No,” Sam answered quietly.

If this was the last step to get Dean’s nightmares to cease, he wasn’t going to mess up now and force anything. Dean was probably going to tell Sam what he had already guessed, but he wouldn’t ask for more. And when Dean stopped he would only say that he was glad that he told him and then go about with their day.


End file.
